


the art of impulse control

by ohlawsons



Series: steal the stars [4]
Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 03:38:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10549432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohlawsons/pseuds/ohlawsons
Summary: Sloane lies dead at her feet and Reyes stands vulnerable before her.Sophie knows what therightchoice is, here, the logical choice, the choice she should make -- but she’s always been a little too selfish and a little too impulsive; and besides, isn’tmaking upthe whole point of fighting?





	

**Author's Note:**

> cave fic ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

If Sophie had known that the Charlatan’s meeting was intended to end with Sloane’s death, she might have tried to convince Sloane to stay in Kadara Port.  Or maybe _she_ would have stayed. Or tried to change the Collective’s plans. Or, at the very least, she would’ve warned Sloane.

Either way, Kadara’s self-declared criminal kingpin likely wouldn’t be lying dead at Sophie’s feet.

She didn’t like Sloane. At all. She loathed the bullshit way she ran Kadara, and had held a personal grudge against Sloane ever since she’d first met the leader of the Outcasts and found a gun in her face. But despite her — rather strong — opinions on the woman, _murder_ still didn’t sit right with Sophie, and if she’d known ahead of time there would’ve been too much time to _think_ about it. Reyes would be dead, then, she reckoned, and that thought didn’t sit right with her either.

But she _hadn_ _’t_ had any idea what she was walking into with Sloane, and in the breath between SAM’s warning and the _crack_ of the sniper rifle all Sophie had been able to see was Reyes, face set into hard lines as he stared down Sloane. She could taste the ghost of him on her lips, all warmth and want and whiskey, could feel the memory of his hands on her waist and her back and her thighs — never quite fast enough, never quite rough enough; she was too damn _impatient_ — could hear the echo of his voice as he said her name, said all those  lovely things, made promises she only half expected him to keep. He had completely unraveled her, and Sophie kept her eyes trained on his and it was only in her peripheral that she saw Sloane crumple to the ground.

“Bang.”

“You _asshole_.” Her brief lapse into memory broken by Reyes’ voice, Sophie marched across to the other side of the cave, careful to make a wide circle around Sloane. She gave Reyes a half-hearted shove — more to make a point, than anything — and it was just enough to make him take a step backwards in surprise. Unable to properly word the rest of her frustrations, Sophie settled for gesturing at Sloane’s body and glaring at Reyes. “You fucker. You—” She cut off with a loud groan, and shoved Reyes again; this time, it didn’t even seem to faze him.

From the entrance of the cave, Vetra let out a long, drawn out sigh. “I’ll let the two of you work this out,” she announced flatly, turning and leaving without even waiting for a response.

“Sophie—”

“How long?” she interrupted, planting her hands on her hips and doing her best to smooth out her expression. Sophie’s mind was whirling, now, as the implications of Reyes’ charade slowly began to sink in; if he’d truly been the Charlatan the _entire_ time, that meant he’d stood by and watched as Sophie had floundered her way through Kadara Port, making enemies with the Outcasts for no other reason than they’d wounded her pride and she had a penchant for raising hell where it maybe _shouldn_ _’t_ be raised. “I mean, did you look at me and think, _Gee, a Pathfinder to help me take over an entire fucking city!_ Because, honestly,” she said with a shrug, the fire in her voice waning ever so slightly, “that’s some pretty clutch planning and the whole ambition thing is _kinda_ hot — but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m pissed off.”

 _Seriously_. Sophie had nearly shot Sloane the first time they’d met — in hindsight, maybe she should have, and saved them all this trouble.

Reyes’ hesitation seemed to lessen somewhat, but he still didn’t quite meet Sophie’s eyes when he spoke. “I thought you could be an ally against Sloane, yes,” he admitted, “but that wasn’t all I saw in you.”

Right. He liked her body. _And_ he knew she couldn’t resist having her ego stroked — _damn him_ , but she was finding herself holding back a grin. “Power _and_ sex. I’m flattered.” There was still an edge to the words, and Sophie could hear her own distaste as she spoke; it was difficult for her to pinpoint exactly _what_ about the entire situation bothered her, given that the revelation that Reyes was the Charlatan was more amusing to her than it was frustrating, and she could easily hand-wave away her guilt over Sloane’s death with some excuse about _the greater good_.

No, it was the lack of communication on Reyes’ part that was grating on her nerves.

Sophie hadn’t made a secret of her feelings on Sloane, or hidden her interest in helping the Collective — she’d found one of their tucked away bases, for Christ’s sake, and had _helped_ their efforts — so the fact that Reyes hadn’t thought to reach out to her first was mildly insulting.

“Did you not trust my abilities? Or my conviction? Or just _me_ in general?”

Reyes’ lips pressed together in a thin frown. “I trust you,” he assured her, the unexpected sincerity in his tone causing the words to hang heavy in the air between them. There had been a sort of severity to him since he’d revealed himself, his features all hard lines and shadows, but it faded as he took a step towards Sophie — still a breath away, not touching but close enough that she was certain he could feel the heat of her emotion as it radiated from her — and his expression was replaced with a softness that was so _open_ and vulnerable that it caught her off-guard. “I trust you,” Reyes repeated. “I couldn’t— I didn’t know that Sloane would reach out to you.”

She scoffed, throwing up her hands. “Yes, let’s leave Sophie out of it, and we can _shoot each other_ in peace.” Was this how Scott felt, she wondered, having to constantly worry about a sister who regularly made ridiculous and short-sighted decisions?

A few dozen apologies were in order once he woke.

“I had things covered,” Reyes pointed out, giving a glance towards the ledge the sniper had been perched on until a few minutes ago. “And like I said, my goal was to avoid unnecessary deaths in Kadara. I want the same thing you do — stability, and perhaps to re-establish contact with the Nexus — and Sloane would’ve run the Port into the ground with the way things were going.”

“Reyes.” Sophie cleared her throat, opting for her best _logical argument_ voice — level, deadpan, and just a tad bit unimpressed. She was inclined to believe him, at this point, about his motives and why he’d contacted Sloane, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still miffed at being left out of planning the entire ordeal. “When have you known me to be a real deep thinker about anything? All you would’ve had to say is, _Sophie, we_ _’re taking out Sloane tonight — you in_?” She pursed her lips, one eyebrow quirking upwards. “Do you _really_ think I wouldn’t have shown up, no questions asked, just to kick some ass?”

“You’re hotheaded and reckless, yes,” Reyes conceded, amusement beginning to shine in his eyes, “but not a murderer. I was trying to leave you out of this.”

“But you _knew_ ,” she groaned, feeling her shoulders begin to slump. “You _knew_ I how I felt about Sloane. If you would’ve just told me, I could’ve… Well, you’re right, I wouldn’t have _killed_ her,” she reasoned, “but I could’ve helped. Done something. I’ve been wanting to get her out of Kadara Port since I _got_ here. You _know_ that,” Sophie repeated, a pleading edge beginning to creep into her voice. She didn’t know what good it would do, now, after everything was already said and done, but she was hoping that Reyes could figure out whatever it was that she needed to hear.

“Of course I knew.” With a sad sort of smile, Reyes reached up to cup her face, one thumb trailing lightly across her skin. The amusement was gone, once again replaced by sincerity. “You’ve always been rather up front with your opinions of Sloane. How was I supposed to know that you wouldn’t feel the same about me? That you wouldn’t just be trading one criminal for another?”

Vaguely aware that she had been leaning into his touch, Sophie let her gaze drift down to Reyes’ jacket, where her fingers were toying with the edge of the fabric. “You’re _you_ ,” she started, forcing herself to look back up at him. “You didn’t pull a gun on me the first time we met. I mean, you _did_ make me pay for both of our drinks, but I think you made up for it when you took me to a fancy party just so we could steal some of Sloane’s whiskey.” She frowned, letting her hands drop lamely to her sides; she wasn’t any good at actually _voicing_ things like this, and _damn_ but it would’ve been easier if she’d have shut him up with a kiss like in the vids. “I mean, I’m not sleeping with Sloane, so I apologize if I’m a bit biased.”

He gave a quiet laugh, but otherwise seemed to ignore her flippant remark. “I was worried that…” He trailed off, eyes still searching Sophie’s face, and began again. “When you look at people, you see the best in them, whether they deserve it or not. Like with your crew, or the angara. Or me. I… liked that, the way you look at me,” he admitted, almost sheepishly, before taking a steadying breath. “I may have hidden that I was the Charlatan, but I haven’t _lied_ — about anything.”

“This doesn’t really change a damn thing,” Sophie agreed, breaking into a grin despite herself and hoping she didn’t look quite as elated at his words as she felt. It was selfish, she knew, to be so satisfied that things between them could continue uninterrupted; she should be questioning him, should be critical of everything they’d been through. “And once again, you’re right. Your mouth is _definitely_ your best feature, and it’s absolutely the only reason I still put up with you.”

Not a lie, technically, but _so_ far from the full truth.

The kissing was good, yes, and the sex was better, but there was so much more that kept drawing her to Kadara. She had _fun_ when she was with Reyes, and in turn he was more than capable of keeping pace with her — whether it was in combat or flirting or just swapping stories — without the typical accusations she’d learned to shrug off. _Slow down_ , people always told her, _stop and smell the roses, let_ _’s wait a minute and talk about this_. And that wasn’t even accounting for the scoundrel-with-a-heart-of-gold cliche he so often fell into — like now, talking about _peace_ after arranging a murder, or envisioning a bright and thriving future for a city full of criminals. His methods should give her pause, perhaps, but that would mean questioning one of the best things to  happen to her since arriving in Andromeda.

And really, Sophie was a woman of simple needs, and Reyes filled most of them. Besides, there was something enticing about being with the self-proclaimed king of a criminal haven.

Her answer — or perhaps her grin, or the noticeable lift in her mood — sparked something within Reyes, and a slow smirk broke through his solemn expression.  “You have terrible taste in men.”

“You said it, not me,” she pointed out; Reyes began to say something else, but this time Sophie _did_ cut him off with a kiss. Her grip on his jacket tightened, pulling him down until their lips met — the kiss all tongue and heat and urgency — and she was being forced backwards, moving until she was flush between Reyes and the cave wall.

There was too much armor between them, too much stress in her limbs, too many reminders of the confrontation they’d just faced. But Sophie wasn’t thinking about that — wasn’t thinking much at all — as they parted and Reyes’ lips moved along her jaw and down to her neck, his hands at her waist and hips as her own hands tangled in his hair. Teeth ran slow along her skin, and Sophie’s breath hitched. _Too much armor._ “This is a good start,” she forced out, breathless, “to convincing me I made the right choice.”

He laughed, low and breathy in her ear. “And it’s certainly _only_ the start.”

It was a promise that made a shiver run down her spine, in both anticipation and desire, but Sophie forced herself to pull back just enough to look up at Reyes, one eyebrow quirking upwards. “Reyes Vidal,” she began, managing to keep her voice _mostly_ even, “you better not be planning sex in a cave, because I have _standards_. I know they’re pretty low, but still — it’s a cave.”

“Mm. So a back room in a bar is fair game,” he pointed out, not bothering to hide his disappointment though his grip on her loosened, “and so is a storage room, but not this?” His voice was filled with amusement, teasing rather than pressing, and with some small amount of effort he untangled himself from her. After a moment the levity vanished, and when Reyes spoke again his worry had returned. “Is it the location, or something else?”

The question caught Sophie by surprise, and she had to take a moment to collect her thoughts. As much as their surroundings were _definitely_ killing the mood, Reyes was right — it wasn’t the only thing making her uncomfortable. “It’s… both. We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?” She didn’t _think_ she had a problem with Reyes being the Charlatan — it was the sort of revelation that would take a while to digest, she reckoned — but she _did_ want the chance to clear the air between them.

Whatever this was, and whatever they were, would have to be figured out. Which, of course, meant talking about it and thinking over it and just generally _dealing_ with the situation — none of which was typically high on Sophie’s _to do_ list. But if Reyes was as sincere about it — _them_ — as he seemed, then Sophie supposed she could put in some effort, too.

Just not the sort of effort that required taking off her pants in a cave. Especially not with Vetra so close.

“So, maybe, we put this on hold, and I go back to Kadara and get a little drunk, and we’ll deal with everything tomorrow?”

Reyes didn’t answer right away, studying Sophie carefully — she almost teased him about the little worry-lines creasing his forehead, but decided against it; his concern was as touching as it was unexpected — and pressed a light, perfectly chaste kiss to her lips. “Anything,” he assured her. “Whatever you need.”

“Technically,” she drawled in an attempt to lighten the mood, “I don’t need any of that. It’s just, I have this thing with Liam. We’re working on _impulse control_. This seems like the kind of situation where it applies.” As a sort of experiment, Sophie slid one of her hands into Reyes’ and began leading him back out towards where Vetra and the Nomad waited; it felt _good_ , even despite her gloves, and she added it to the mental list of things to contemplate.

Which, she _wanted_ to do — contemplate. Think. She wanted to be certain of where she and Reyes were headed — individually, or together, or whatever — and she knew that if she gave in and led him straight back to the Tempest like she wanted to, _that_ _’s_ where they would be headed.

A distraction that would keep pulling her back to Kadara.

Maybe she wanted something different. Something in addition to all the sex. Reyes seemed to, and Sophie couldn’t deny that the idea certainly intrigued her, even given the mess they’d just been through.

But that was a question for the next day, and Sophie had more pressing matters to attend to at the moment — like Vetra, seated atop the Nomad, beer in hand. She had the right idea; Sophie pulled herself up to sit beside her, sliding to the side to make room for Reyes and patting the now-empty spot beside her. “Need a ride back?” she asked, the question more a roundabout way of asking him to stick around for a few more minutes. “ We’ve got a third seat.”

“I suppose I could, assuming you’re not planning to make any other stops. I _do_ have a city to run, now.”

She inched away as Reyes began to slip an arm around her waist, holding up a hand to say _hold on_ and sliding backwards, turning and stretching across the Nomad to reach the interior, hoisting up a small cooler from where the rover’s fourth seat had originally been. “Refreshments,” she explained, leaving the cooler within reach and pulling out two of the remaining five bottles. She handed a beer to Reyes, clinking their bottles together in some semblance of a toast before reaching over to pull Vetra’s from her grasp. Ignoring the turian’s unimpressed sigh, Sophie held up the drink. “Blue label is levo, orange label is dextro. You owe me big time,” she informed him, handing Vetra her drink back, “because it’s hell trying to get the Nexus to pay for our contraband booze.”

Reyes took a sip, then studied the bottle for a moment, looking impressed. “You got the Initiative to pay for this?”

“ _Emergency field rations_ on our requisition order,” Vetra said. “Ryder just thinks it’s hard because she’s about as subtle as a brick. You can’t just _tell_ people you’re turning a high-dollar exploratory vehicle into a party rover.”

“That’s why I keep you around, Vetra,” Sophie pointed out, leaning back into Reyes. “Like how you convinced Tann to pay the tab that me and Liam ran up on Aya.”

“ _Diplomatic outreach_. Which doesn’t work as well the second time.”

“Luckily, _continued investigations_ still works as an excuse to come to Kadara.” She flashed Reyes a crooked grin. “Don’t let things settle down _too_ much, or I’ll have to come up with some other bullshit reason.”

“Which means _I_ _’ll_ have to come up with another bullshit reason,” Vetra interjected. “I already don’t like you, Vidal. Try not to make it worse.”

“Good thing you aren’t the one I’m trying to impress.” The statement was directed at Vetra, but Reyes spoke to Sophie, the words low and breathy and punctuated with a kiss at her jawline.

Vetra sighed again and took a long drink. “Keep that up, and the two of you can walk back to town.”

 


End file.
